


The Taking

by goldenjackalsong



Category: Original Work
Genre: Come as Lube, Creampie, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Bondage, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, rapist pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27670190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenjackalsong/pseuds/goldenjackalsong
Summary: A woman wakes up tied to a bed. It goes about as well as you would expect.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 83





	The Taking

She was tied to his bed. He'd bound her wrists together and then tied them to the bedstead, while her legs were forced wide apart, each ankle tied to a bedpost. He'd gagged her too, stuffing a cloth into her mouth and then fastening a strap around her head for good measure to make sure she couldn't spit it out -- he didn't trust her not to bite. And now she lay there on her back, naked and perfect, spread wide open for him. It was a delicious tease, waiting for her to regain consciousness. It shouldn't be long now.

Watching her wake up was a delight. Her long lashes fluttering against her cheek just before her eyes flickered open. The way her breasts rose and fell as she took her first shocked breath, and the way they bounced as she arched and struggled when she found herself tied up. The way she shrieked into the gag and tried to spit it out. He chuckled and she jumped, her whole body flinching in surprise as she realized he was there.

"You can't get out," he told her. She wailed into the gag, tears starting in her eyes. She was probably begging, not that he could understand a word of it. He took off his shirt, savoring the way she watched him, wide eyed with terror. He was going to enjoy this.

Of course he was already hard. He'd been hard since he tied her up -- cutting her clothes off her, letting his fingers trail over her soft skin -- the way the rope bit so perfectly into the flesh of her wrists and ankles -- the way her slack mouth parted for his fingers as he gagged her. He was going to use her properly tonight, and it was going to be so, so good. The look on her face when he took off his pants sent a thrill of lust through him. He wasn't exceptionally big, he knew, but he was above average, and the terror in her eyes was delectable. He stroked his own cock gently, just once from root to tip, and sighed with pleasure. But he was getting ahead of himself. He had a very specific plan.

He climbed naked into bed with her and settled himself between her spread thighs. She struggled in vain to close her legs, but the ropes held her fast. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand and she flinched, begging again -- nothing but incoherent, muffled mumbling. He stroked his thumb in lazy circles around her nipple, watching it harden in response to his touch.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured, and smirked. It was an involuntary response, of course -- she couldn't control it. Most people's nipples weren't even particularly sensitive; odds were she'd get little pleasure from such a touch, even with a lover she wanted in her bed. But it was fun to play with her anyway. She shook her head violently, and her muffled cries were obviously "No! No!"

"I think you do." He started on the other nipple, drawing it up into a taut little peak under his fingers. "Lying slut." He pinched it. She whimpered.

"That didn't even hurt! You're pathetic." He jabbed his nails into her nipple and clamped down hard; she shrieked. "There. That hurt." He released her and stroked the brutalized nipple gently.

"I'm not here to torture you, sweetheart. I think we could have some fun tonight," he said. Her chest fluttered with barely suppressed sobs; it made her breasts bounce and tremble. Beautiful. He ran a slow hand down her sternum, over her belly, to stroke between her legs. She flinched violently, but there was no escape from his questing fingers.

He spread her folds gently. Her pussy was so soft and pink, all furled up tight now from lack of arousal. Well, that would change. He brushed a fingertip over her entrance and found her dry, as expected.

"Let's get you wet, sweetheart," he told her, and took himself in hand.

He didn't want to come too soon. Tonight was all about savoring this pleasure, the first time breaking in her body for his use, but damn if she wasn't arousing. She struggled as he stroked his cock, but the ropes that kept her legs spread had no play in them at all, so there was little she could do besides arch her back and lift her hips, and maybe thrash from side to side a little, which made her breasts bounce erotically. He kept her pussy spread wide with one hand as he touched himself, and the sight of her vulva contracting and flexing as she struggled was almost unbearable. The orgasm was on him far sooner than he'd hoped, although he knew it had really been a losing battle from the get go. The next one would be slower. So he aimed himself as best he could and came hard, thick spurts of cum painting themselves over her clit and vulva, dripping down over her entrance. The pleasure was intense and the sight of her pussy dripping with his cum only heightened it. He worked every drop of it out of himself, then released his cock and trailed his fingers over her cunt, rubbing the cum into her.

"That's a good start," he said, his voice a little rough. She whimpered. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You'll like it by the time I'm done." And then he reached down and began to stroke her. 

He had two goals: to bring her to the edge of an orgasm, and to get as much of his cum inside her as possible. He started with her clit, running two fingers around it in a gentle circle, rubbing steadily. At first she was unresponsive aside from flinching occasionally, but he kept stroking and stroking, never easing or varying his caress, and after a few minutes, he began to see results. Her pussy was plumping up a little as he watched, the pink of it deepening, and her breathing was becoming just a touch irregular. He smiled.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he asked. She shook her head, mumbling a tearful denial into her gag, but her pussy didn't lie. He kept stroking her clit, slow, gentle circles, almost teasing, his fingers slick with his own cum. Her breathing was noticeably irregular now -- she was practically panting with pleasure. When his fingers dipped down beneath her clit he felt her flex hard against him, rubbing her clit against his knuckles. He obligingly stroked his fingertips up the clitoral shaft and she actually moaned into the gag, then flinched and choked on it.

"You do like it," he murmured. "Admit it." She shook her head.

"You will eventually," he said, and took his hand away. Her hips jerked, following him.

"Patience, sweetheart," he told her, and then scooped up some of his cum on his fingertips and drove two fingers deep inside her.

Her cry was not one of pain. She was surprised and upset, of course, but under the fear and anger there was pleasure. He found her most sensitive spot immediately and rubbed his fingers against it, spreading his cum on her inner walls as he pressed deep into her. She cried out again and her back arched, seemingly involuntarily -- he could see how she struggled against it, trying to force her spine flat against the mattress, only to arch up again when he pressed into her just right and made her moan with ecstasy. If he looked over his shoulder now, he suspected he'd see her toes curl, but the sight in front of him was far too captivating to look away.

His touch on her clit had gotten her well and truly aroused before he penetrated her, and inside her cunt he found her hot and slick. He could feel the throb of her heartbeat around his fingers; if she held still, he could feel her breathing. He pulled out to rub his fingers through more of the cum he'd spilled over her vulva, gathering it up and putting it inside her when he entered her again. She was well and truly moaning now, accepting every thrust of his fingers like she was made for him. She had most of his load in her and she arched and gasped as he fucked her with his fingers; she liked it hard against her g-spot, he found: if he pressed hard enough, he could make her eyes roll back in ecstasy. She couldn't control it. He wondered if he even needed to keep her tied up at this point -- if he let her loose, but kept his fingers in her, could he simply incapacitate her with pleasure? Would she writhe helplessly on his hands and dick if he fucked her right? Could he give her pleasure so intense that she would lose all capacity to fight him as he raped her?

That thought did it -- he was rock hard again. He touched his cock and found himself dripping with precum, so he wet the fingers of his free hand with it and started to rub her clit again. The timbre of her moans changed, going higher, becoming almost whimpers as he stroked her in time with his thrusts. Her thighs twitched against his knees. She had her eyes clamped shut, and her tears were drying on her cheeks. She seemed lost in the pleasure he gave her, or perhaps simply overwhelmed by it. He rammed his fingers deep into her most sensitive spot and stroked her clit steadily, rhythmically, resisting the temptation to apply too much pressure. Teasing little touches on the clit, over and over, keeping up a rhythm until --

The timbre of her moans changed again, delicate little cries half-swallowed by her gag. He felt her inner muscles flex and tremble. Her clit twitched under his fingers. She was close. It was time.

She gave a little wail of protest when he pulled his fingers out of her, and then screamed when he buried his cock deep in her throbbing pussy. The arch of her back gave him the perfect angle. He grabbed her hip tight in one hand, pressing the other between them to reach her clit, not trying to stroke it so much as pull the skin taut and expose her to the touch of his own body as he thrust himself into her over and over again. She was already slick with her arousal and his cum, and she was tight from being so close to orgasm, and her perfect tits bounced with his every thrust. Her moans dipped lower for a moment, but then those delicate little cries were back, and he could feel her trembling around him, her whole pussy twitching as he fucked her right up to the edge.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he panted. Her eyes remained tightly shut.

"Look at me, damn it. Look at me! Slut! Do you have any -- ff -- any fucking idea -- hh -- what I'll do to you -- look at me!" It was getting hard to talk now with the pleasure building inside him, but she was so close -- he wanted to see the look in her eyes when she came on his dick. He wanted her to watch him fill her up with cum.

"Look at me, slut!" he snarled, digging his nails into the skin of her hip as hard as he could. She flinched -- and opened her eyes.

"Good girl. That's it -- that's it sweetheart -- you were, ahh, so close, come on, good girl, come for me, come on, come, come for me, come for me -- "

He was worried he might have ruined it by making her look at him, but she was already right on the edge, and no amount of fear or misery could stop her body from reaching climax now. He felt her twitch and shudder, and watched as her eyes went unfocused even as they filled with tears. He felt her breath catch, felt the little moans rising up inside her one by one as her muscles went tight and her back arched high, and then, with a shudder, she came.

The scream seemed to tear itself from her throat, ecstatic and devastated in equal measure. She shook under him, her entire body convulsing with the intensity of her orgasm. Her pussy was clamped down around him like a vise, so hot and wet and tight that it was all he could do to stop himself from coming in that moment -- he wanted to see this, all of it. His orgasm could wait. For now he wanted to focus on the way her breasts bounced while he fucked her through her climax, the way her pussy milked him for all it was worth, the way she screamed and gasped and screamed again as the pleasure took her in waves, and the way her eyes stayed wide open, locked on his face as she came. She looked terrified at her own helplessness, her own failure to control her body through this. How could he have done this to her? she was wondering. How could he have reduced her to this?

It was simple: he owned her now. It was time to make it official. So as she lay there under him, shaking her way through her aftershocks, he thrust himself hard into her trembling pussy and filled her with his cum.

By the time he could see again, her pussy was down to the faint, occasional twitch, and she was crying. He settled himself comfortably on top of her, not ready to pull out of her yet. He wanted to feel the way she came down now. He stroked her forehead gently, tucking a few sweat-soaked strands of hair behind her ear.

"I told you you'd like it," he murmured. She shook her head. Her eyes were clamped shut again, and tears ran down her cheeks and temples into her hair.

"Ssh, sweetheart," he said, kissing her brow softly. "You know you needed that." She wailed a denial into her gag.

"A good fuck? My cum? You don't know what's good for you," he said, amused. She sobbed.

"Don't worry. You'll learn soon enough," he said. Her eyes snapped open.

"Did you think this was over now, sweetheart? No." He rolled off her, laughing to himself a little. "I have so much more planned for you."

There was no pleasure in her scream at all this time.


End file.
